


Breaking and Entering

by whatsgoingonidk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Adoption, Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trust Issues, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsgoingonidk/pseuds/whatsgoingonidk
Summary: "The fact is we need to evaluate how our team works together and-"A loud crash cut off Steve's sentence followed by a groan from the person who had just fallen out of the ceiling."What the fu-"





	1. Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something that I'm writing. I'm pretty excited about this book so that should keep me motivated enough to update every week!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

-

"Mandatory training sessions?"

"Yes."

"Every Thursday afternoon?"

"Yes. I just said that." Steve responded, trying not to grow frustrated at Tony's insistent questioning and diversion to the matter.

Tony narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest like a stubborn child who was refusing to go to sleep. God, Steve loved his boyfriend but he could be stubborn as hell.

The team had been worried that the pair would act differently towards one another after they started dating, putting them and others in danger or compromising a mission. They had been proven very wrong when the two continued to bicker like children every time a mission came about.

"So what? We sit around and play monopoly?" Clint snorted from across the table, legs kicked up on the dark oak table.

"Bagsy banker." He quipped after Tony, face in a smirk. Natasha not so subtly rolled her eyes, pushing Clint's legs down with a simple flick of her wrist.

"The fact is we need to evaluate how our team works together and-"

A loud crash cut off Steve's sentence, followed by a groan from the person who had just fallen out of the ceiling.

"What the fu-"

"Clint, shut up." Steve quickly said, mind flashing with _'Spy. Listening. Stop.'_ But just as he was about to open his mouth to ask who this guy was and why was he listening into private Avengers meetings he caught a glimpse of the boy’s face.

This boy was a child, no older than fourteen.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut, trying to observe every detail of the body that had just fallen through the ceiling of one of the most secure buildings in Manhattan. The boy had dark brown curly hair, long and unkempt, dirt and grease streaking through it as though it hadn’t been washed in a while. His face and body were skinny, unnaturally so, and he could see that by the way that his thin clothes were draping off his body. But the most alarming thing about this boy was that he had a large bruise planted across his jaw, deep purple and yellow standing out against his frightfully pale skin.

The eyes blinked open, a soft groan escaping chapped lips as he tried to take in the room.

Steve could sense Natasha going to pick the boy up, keep him detained whilst they got answers and he raised his hand to halt any kind of movement or speech from anyone in the room.

“Oh fuck.” The voice from below him suddenly said, and when Steve looked down at the body, he saw that deep hazel eyes were gazing around the group of people in the room to varying degrees of fear.

“Well, I’m dead. If you’re going to kill me can you do it quickly? I’d prefer not to suffer in my final moments.” Steve frowned, then, to the shock of everyone in the room the blonde crouched and looked the young boy in the eyes.

“Hey, no one is gonna kill you.” He said softly, gazing down at the thin blue sleeping bag the boy’s lower half was still tangled up in from the fall.

The boy squinted in disbelief, then said:

“Fine but can you make sure that any injuries I sustain aren’t life-threatening: I don’t have health insurance.”

“No one is gonna hurt you either-“

“Steve.” It was Natasha who had cut him off, eyes hard and untrusting at the child.

“Oh, Natasha, come on.” Steve gestured to the boy to say: ‘him, really?’. “A child?”

“I was a child.” She countered, stiff and prim.

Steve paused, blinked a few times and for a second there was tense, unyielding silence before Steve sat in front of the boy (who was still squinting at the man in disbelief) with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap.

“Jarvis, does this guy have weapons on him or anything that could harm us in any way?”

_“No, Captain. I detect no weapons of any kind.” _Steve nodded, quick, and then glanced at Natasha to check to see if that met her standards.

She still had the same expression on her face, but she didn’t say or do anything other than glance at Steve to carry on.

“I’m Steve.”

“I know who you are.” The boy replied instantly, still observing Steve with untrusting eyes.

Steve didn’t respond for a few seconds, wanting to choose his words carefully around the child who had barely blinked since falling through their ceiling.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have to tell you that.” He responded again quickly, hands tensing underneath the material of the sleeping bag.

“Okay, well do you mind telling us why you were in our vents?” The kid didn’t reply as quick that time, obviously deciding what to say as he looked Steve right in the eye.

“I was sleeping.” He gestured down to the bag he was wearing. “Honestly I didn’t expect to be disturbed, I expected better structural integrity from Stark Tower.”

And for the first time since Steve had begun speaking to him, the young boy took his eyes off Steve to look at Tony who was standing near the back wall, one iron man gauntlet on.

“Why were you sleeping in the vents of the tower?” Asked Clint, voice kind and soft, no hint of interrogation at all.

“I just love the atmosphere.” The child deadpanned sarcastically, eyeing Clint.

No one knew what to say then, too shocked by the vague answers and too scared to make the boy close up to speak.

Finally, the child spoke again.

“Look, I didn’t hear anything. You can just let me go and I won’t talk to anyone – I know better than to mess with you guys.” He then paused, gazing around at the rubble from his fall. “If you want me to work to make up for the damage, I can do that too.”

He carefully clambered out the thin material so they could finally see the torn jeans he had been wearing underneath, before expertly rolling up the sleeping bag and stuffing it in a battered rucksack that had fallen out with him.

“Stay here.” Steve found himself saying. “Just for a couple of hours while we contact your family, okay? We won’t hurt you; I promise.”

The young boy eyes him suspiciously, clutching protectively at the strap of his bag.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Your jaw’s fractured,” Tony spoke then, confident. “It must be hurting.” Peter then looked at him.

“I barely notice it.”

Again, no one spoke until Tony pushed himself off the wall to speak again.

“Why don’t you come with us and we’ll go and get some pain relief for you, maybe some food, I’m starving.”

Peter didn’t respond once more, eyeing Tony suspiciously before speaking.

“My bag stays with me the entire time.”

Tony grinned, “Scout’s honour.”

“I was never in the fucking scouts.”


	2. And, scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow but I was too excited about it so here you go!
> 
> Enjoy :)

-

The first thing that Peter noticed when he was in the med-bay of Stark Tower is that the Avengers were communicating without speaking, like a well-oiled machine.

He was sat on a pristinely made cot-bed that had a comfier mattress and sheets then he’d ever had, with his rucksack on his lap, clutching onto the straps as he watched Tony Stark murmur something inaudible to Bruce Banner, even with his super hearing.

“Peter? That’s your name, right?” Tony asked, looking up from a tablet that he and Bruce had been looking over. “Peter Benjamin Parker?”

Peter didn’t say anything, but simply nodded his head slightly and looked away from the two men over to the door where he could see Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov talking heatedly outside: about him.

“Well, nice to meet you, Peter. You seem to have a pretty bad fracture there, how did you get it?” Bruce asked, rolling over on the small stool from the desk that was there to the bed Peter was sat on.

Peter hesitated. He couldn’t say the truth, he couldn’t blame it on Spiderman (no one knew about that yet) and saying he fell or hit something was too obvious of a lie. So, he settled with:

“Kids at school.” Tony looked up from his tablet, one eye raised but didn’t say anything, which Peter was thankful for.

“Do you think we could take some blood, kid? Check your levels and-“

“No.” Peter immediately refused, eyes cold and unyielding on the subject. He wasn’t letting people he’d just met take blood that would undeniably come up as strange thanks to his special mutation.

“If you worried about the fact that we’ll figure out that you’re that spider-ling, don’t worry, we already know.”

Peter’s eyes flashed with fear, and Tony thought quick to try and calm the kid again.

“Nice web fluid by the way, how do you make that?” Peter remained tense, gripping his bag even tighter, eyeing the two men in the room in suspicion.

“I make it,” Peter said quickly, flexing one wrist as if to prove it. Tony’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I’m not sure whether to find that slightly gross or not.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but smirked, the first smile that he had uttered towards anyone in the last hour.

“So… you don’t want my blood to mutate other people or to replicate or anything?”

Bruce pulls a face, but Tony laughs.

“Jesus kid, no. We want to keep an eye on your glucose levels and to see if Steve’s super-soldier pain relief won’t burn through your bloodstream like the last lot just did.”

Peter obviously wouldn’t have said it, since that would have raised many unexplainable questions, but the pain relief they had administered fifteen minutes ago was already wearing off and the gentle throb in his jaw was beginning to come back.

So, he simply nodded, and he held out his arm so Bruce could extract a few vials of his blood, not even flinching at the pinch of the needle.

Just as Bruce was peeling off his gloves, was when Steve came back in, face pinched in frustration and worry.

“Tony, a quick word?” As the two men left the room, Peter let himself lean back against the head of the bed, head resting back as he watched Bruce test his blood.

“What does it say?” Peter asked, suddenly, like he hadn’t thought about asking it before he did. “My blood, I mean. I’ve always wanted to test it but I never could.”

Bruce smiled, warm. “Do you like science, Peter?”

Peter nodded slowly but didn’t say anything else.

“Well your blood tells us that your glucose levels are a little lower than I’d like, and so are your iron and calcium levels.” Bruce looked from the computers to Peter with a small frown. “Have you been experiencing dizzy spells? Moments of breathlessness? Fatigue?”

Peter shook his head, a lie, but didn’t feel bad about it in the slightest as he looked away from Bruce to look at the ceiling and the slow movements of the fan.

Bruce didn’t say anything then, observing for just a moment before turning back to the computer to evaluate what he should do.

“Is it okay if I set you up to an IV? It will distribute some supplements to get your blood sugar levels back up as well as administering some pain relief that you won’t burn through in ten minutes.” Bruce smiled and then smiled a little wider when Peter only hesitated a few seconds before offering his arm out.

“But I want to watch you take the meds out of the casing and immediately administer them.” He said sharply, voice firm.

“Of course,” Bruce confirmed like it was a given and he wasn’t fazed by Peter’s demand.

Whilst Bruce gathered all the materials, he would need for the IV, Peter strained his ears to listen to the conversation happening outside the door, but due to his fatigue and lack of concentration he could only catch a few words.

_“Talked to Fury.”, “Just for tonight.”, “Trust issues.”_

He was brought out of his haze by Bruce softly calling him. He turned his head to the man to see him holding up a small casing of something called ‘banana bag’ which then listed underneath it all the supplements it had in it. He nodded and Bruce began to attach it to the IV pole before attaching the tube to it that would eventually go into Peter.

He mostly just let Bruce work as he wiped his hands and inserted the cannula so the banana bag could serve its purpose, only pausing to read the casing of the pain relief certifying that it was, in fact, the pain relief as promised.

As the drugs began to take effect after half an hour of staring at the ceiling was when he began to feel the inescapable pull of sleep, straining to keep them open after the trying few hours.

“It’s okay, kid.” Tony was now back in the room, when did that happen? “You can get some sleep; you must be shattered.”

“No.” Peter just replied, not looking at anyone in the room, head still thrown back on soft clean pillows.

_God, if he wasn’t surrounded by superheroes he didn’t know or trust, this would be such a good place to go to sleep. _

Logically, he knew they wouldn’t try anything as they were in a building that was crawling with civilians and killing a fourteen-year-old street rat probably wasn’t good for press. But he could tell he was going to sleep for a while when he finally drifted off, way through the night where fewer people would be around.

“How about, we all go out and I’ll have Jarvis lock the door and notify you if someone tries to come in and then make sure you are awake if someone comes within five feet of your bed?” Clint tries, voice calm.

Peter tilts his head to gaze at him, observing him quietly, blinking a few times. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“Cool. Jarvis?”

_“Already done, Master Barton.”_

-

No one said anything as they filed into the meeting room one over from where a fourteen-year-old enhanced superhero literally fell into their lives.

No one said anything as they all sat down around a glass table and mulled over what had happened less than two hours ago.

And no one said anything at all when they all glanced wearily up at the ceiling as if they expected another child to fall out.

“Bruce.” It was Tony who spoke first, hand still clutching at a tablet. “What can you tell us about his physical health?”

Instead of proclaiming that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, Bruce shifted in his seat slightly before grimacing.

“He wouldn’t let me listen to his breathing but just from sitting next to him I could hear how his chest was crackling as he breathed, so he probably has pneumonia, or at the least a bad chest infection.”

Steve tried to keep his face passive, but at the mention of pneumonia, his mouth twisted, remembering the disease that had killed so many young people off during harsh winters back in the thirties. He gratefully gripped Tony’s hand back when it found its way into his grasp.

“His blood sugar levels are low, extremely so. And judging by how skinny he is he seems to not have had a decent meal in a while. Even as a growing teenager, he needs a lot to eat, but also with his enhancements he probably needs more food than Steve on a good day.”

Clint pursed his lips, hands clenching underneath the table almost imperceptibly. It must be hard for him to hear this, Steve thought sadly, knowing what it was like.

“His jaw was fractured pretty badly, but it seems to have healed pretty well, so it probably was first broken around two months ago? Give or take a week.” Bruce sighed. “And he has major trust issues, but I think a blind person could see that.”

Once Bruce finished, Tony didn’t speak for a few seconds before he pressed a button on his tablet so the boy’s file was open for everyone to see.

He scrolled down slightly until he got to recent residences.

“This is Garett Clifton. As of ten weeks ago, he was the foster parent taking care of Peter when his last living relative died. Three weeks ago, he was sentenced to ten years in prison for child neglect and child abuse to one Mary Gibson and there is still an ongoing court case about child abuse towards Peter.”

The room was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, and Steve swallowed thickly.

“When police got to his house after neighbours reported they heard a commotion, police found Garett unconscious on the floor surrounded by: quote ‘hundreds of beer cans and blood’ unquote. When taking him in for questioning, he stated he didn’t know where the two kids where, but prodding found that Mary had been returned to Queens Sunflower Orphanage only a few hours before, but Peter was nowhere to be found.” Tony read off quietly, before saying. “That was a month ago.”

“So, where has he been staying in that month?” Steve asked quietly, looking at the face on the file that was staring back at him.

“God Steve, use your fucking head. He fell out of the ceiling in a sleeping bag.” Clint groused, hands clenched on the table, eyes down and angry.

It was true, how could they kid themselves? The child was sleeping in the air vents, wrapped up in a sleeping bag. He wasn’t doing that as a choice, it was a necessity of not being frozen to death in the cold nights of what was proving to be a horrid November.

He wondered what Peter had seen, out in the streets of New York as a young boy. Sitting day after day in cold alleys and wishing he was anywhere else but there. He found himself yearning to march into Peter’s room and wrap him up in a million blankets and hand feed him homemade food and tell him he was safe and would be taken care of.

But he couldn’t do that, because they needed Peter to trust them, and breaking the rule Peter had set about him going to sleep would certainly break any sort of trust they built with him.

“I talked to Fury.” Tony continued. “He wants us to keep Peter with us, just until they sort out something permanent because he’s worried his enhancements and what he’s been through will be a problem and we’re more equipped to deal with that.”

“But finding something permanent that is equipped to deal with that kind of trauma could take months.” Pepper countered. “He’ll need some sort of legal care here until that happens.”

“Like fostering?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

“Sort of, just something legal that will make sure he is cared for while he is here. Otherwise, Peter could go to the police and say he is being held hostage or has been kidnapped. Not that he seems like the type of kid to do that just to be spiteful.”

“So, who is gonna be his legal caregivers while he’s here?” Natasha asked, eyes skating over everyone in the room.

Steve and Tony looked at each other for a few seconds, then Steve nodded at his boyfriend.

“We’ll do it.”


	3. What it would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter would be up on Wednesday but I've had a few exams this week and then my internet was down on Thursday so I'm really sorry that this is going up so late! On the bright side, I think I'll be posting twice a week, on no particular days :)  
Hope you enjoy and have a good weekend <3

-

“Morning Peter.” Peter could tell Bruce tried sounding as cheery as possible as he came through the door of Peter’s room on the medical wing with Tony, Steve and a man he didn’t recognise all following behind him.

The others had been informed twenty minutes prior by Jarvis that Peter had just woken up from a much needed nine-hour sleep but by the way Peter felt, he could have slept double that.

Peter didn’t respond to Bruce’s greeting, eyes trained in on the new man, who had a stethoscope around his neck and was talking to Tony in hushed tones whilst they both leant over a Stark Tablet.

“Did you sleep well?” Bruce tried again, going over to his workbench and snapping on some gloves, before turning to face his patient.

“It was fine,” Peter said stiffly. And then: “Who the fuck are you?”

The new guy looked up from the tablet, one eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his lips as he took in Peter.

“Stephen Strange.” He then turned back to the tablet, missing Peter’s hard glare, but feeling it burn into his head.

“Dr. Strange is here to take a look at you and to give a professional opinion on how to treat you.”

Peter’s head snapped to Bruce then, mouth pursed. For a moment, Peter could tell the others thought he was about to shout at Bruce and state that he didn’t need to be looked at like he had multiple times yesterday on the way down to the medical wing from the meeting rooms.

“Why can’t you do it?” Peter asked instead, voice untrusting and a little annoyed.

“I’m not a medical doctor, Peter. I can say what I think personally, but we need a doctor to tell us how to treat you in a professional opinion.”

“Well, why this guy?” Peter asked again, looking at the new man through the corner of his eye.

“He is aware of Steve’s faster metabolism and can treat it effectively, and because your powers seemed to be similar, we called Dr. Strange in.”

Peter didn’t respond, just watched the new doctor move around the room, putting on a lab coat, snapping on gloves, writing notes from the tablet down on the clipboard being kept on a small desk on the opposite side of the room which he knew had his medical notes on it.

Then, Stephen turned around and smiled, coming over to the end of Peter’s bed.

“Okay Peter, do you think we could start by taking a listen to your chest?”

“No,” Peter said immediately. He was fine with most things these doctors would ask to do, but anything that required him to take off his shirt was a no-go, they would see how skinny he was and how his ribs protruded greatly.

Stephen blinked, unsure what to do then. He needed to listen to Peter’s chest to decide what kind of treatment to give him, and without it, his visit was kind of pointless.

“How about you leave your shirt on? You can flip it around so Dr. Strange can listen to your back and then he can put it under your shirt?” Steve asked, voice gentle, all soft and warm and the kind of thing that made Peter want to cry because it reminded him of aunt may.

Peter nodded slowly, then pulled the sheet off the bed he was on around his shoulder before shimmying out the shirt and putting it on back to front.

He then nodded at Stephen, who smiled and requested he move forward so he can look at his back, which Peter did with minimal hesitation.

Peter breathed deeply when told to, only glaring at Stephen in slight annoyance when he made him do it more than once. Then it was time for his chest and when Stephen placed the stethoscope under his flannel shirt, his cold fingers grazed along one of Peter’s protruded ribs, making him shudder in response.

When he was done, Stephen placed the stethoscope around his neck and brought up the results from his bloodwork.

“Have you been ill recently? Flu, or even feeling under the weather?”

Peter went to reply, then frowned.

Had he been sick? His past couple of months kind of blurred all into one, and with his new spider enhancements, he technically couldn’t get sick. But he does remember having a pretty bad headache, fever-driven flu a couple of weeks ago. So were his spider enhancements failing?

“Peter?” Tony asked again when the boy failed to respond, and he quickly turned to Stephen.

“I had a fever-type-flu-thing around two weeks ago, but I was only ill for a day or so.”

“I think it’s caused you to contract a bacterial chest infection, which is easily enough treated with antibiotics.” He then eyed Peter thoughtfully. “How’s your diet been in the past few months.”

“Just spectacular.” Peter shot back, sarcastic. “Five stars, through the roof food.”

Stephen didn’t say anything, but turned back to the clipboard in his hands, clicking his pen so he could begin to write.

“I’m prescribing you two weeks of the fast-metabolism antibiotics. You will also need to eat as much as possible over the next few weeks, to regain your strength, I would suggest things high in fats and carbs. Drinks like orange juice and milk would also be appreciated.”

Peter could feel his temper rising, hands clutching at his sides, eyes squinting at the over confident doctor.

“Oh yeah, and when I win the lottery, I’ll eat my fill.”

He desperately tried not to look over at Steve, whose eyebrows were drawn in sympathy; and care?

“Kid we have plenty of orange juice here, you can take as much as you want,” Tony muttered as he continued to type away on his tablet absentmindedly.

“And you just expect me to get all the way to Stark Tower every time I need orange juice?”

“Well, it won’t be too difficult since you’ll be living here.”

Peter stilled, entire body locked and frozen, and he found that no words would come out, despite how much he wanted to scream at everyone about everything in his life that was unfair.

“Peter? You okay?” Bruce asked, noticing how Peter’s heart rate was beginning to rapidly increase from the monitor by his bed.

“I-I- “ Peter stammered, and suddenly he ripped the pulse monitor off his finger, throwing his legs off the bed sideways, and tried to stand.

But his legs wouldn’t co-operate, they felt like sand and he was sort of aware that his breathing was coming out in shallow pants that made his head go fuzzy and panic swell up in his chest.

“Woah kid, come on, back to bed.” It was Tony by his side, gently hovering his hands around Peter so that if he fell, he would be caught.

“N-no. Fuck off.” Peter tried pushing Tony away, but in his weak nature he just kind of pushed himself away from the man and he stumbled backward, where Steve moved quickly to catch him.

In his panic, the touches against his skin were like electricity and he jerked away and into the wall nearby, trying to observe everyone in the room and what they were doing but his eyes were blurry and his ears were ringing and all of a sudden his legs were giving out on him and he was in a heap on the floor, heaving for breath.

“Come on Peter, take a nice deep breath for me.” He thinks it might be Steve talking next to him, but the noise comes so blurred to his ears that it could’ve been anyone. He hiccupped, hands desperately trying to clutch something underneath him.

“Come on. Deep breaths, in and out. Just like that.” Steve slowly coached his breathing, and Peter had no other choice but to obey, in fear of passing out around the four unknown men.

Slowly, his senses regained to him at a normal level. Where his eyes were clear but tired, and he could hear everything like normal with no ringing in the background, and his head wasn’t fuzzy with lack of oxygen.

His eyes fluttered open, taking in another deep breath, hands clutching tightly at the bottom of his grubby flannel shirt.

“Well done, you're doing so well.” Steve murmured, voice low and soft.

Peter sort of wanted to say _‘fuck you’_ or _‘this is stupid’_ or _‘your breathing patterns are stupid’ _

But, Steve sort of reminded him of how aunt May used to soothe him after a nightmare, with a soft voice and soothing touches. And if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could probably pretend he was with aunt May.

“You good kid?” Tony asked from next to him (when did that happen?) with a small bottle of water handed out to him.

“Never better,” Peter replied, tiredly leaned against the wall, arms draped across his stomach.

“Yeah, I bet.” Steve murmurs and then takes the bottle from Tony before uncapping it and taking a swig before holding it out.

Peter takes it hesitantly then, taking a large gulp and then another. It’s stupid that he wants to test for food and drink before consuming them, especially because if these guys wanted to do it, they’ve had multiple chances since he arrived.

“We’re not that bad to live with, really,” Steve says with a hesitant smile, hands perched neatly in his lap as he talks to Peter.

“You want me, the homeless boy who fell through your ceiling, to live with you guys?” Peter asked, smirking at just the mere thought.

“That was sort of the plan. We’d foster you, and we’re pretty equipped to deal with superhero shit – sorry for my language Stevie – and you’d stay with us whilst we sorted out your legal forms and found you someone to live with permanently who can cope with your needs.” Tony explains, not looking over to Steve who glares at him as Tony swears.

Peter thinks. And then runs his options once more.

He’s been in the system for half a year, and his only experience so far has been shit. Sure, living here would mean he has to be more careful with his stuff and what he did and said, especially since they could be just as bad as the other foster parents.

But they could provide a bed and meals consistently whilst also dealing with his Spiderman problems, and they couldn’t outwardly abuse him because no doubt the media would be after him and that was press The Avengers didn’t want.

“Would- would I still be allowed to be Spiderman?”

“Pfft, kid I’m already working on a suit.” Tony brags, grinning.

“You are?” Both Peter and Steve say at the same time, in entirely different tones.

“Obviously, that sweatsuit is atrocious.”

Peter glares at him for that, he works hard trying to keep his suit in pristine condition, sewing it up every time he tore it or soaking the blood out of it on a particularly nasty night.

“And you guys wouldn’t be my parents, right?” Peter knew how the system worked, he knew foster parents weren’t parents, more like caregivers. But Steve and Tony couldn’t think that they were going to be parents because it would just be better for Peter’s conscious on the whole.

“No,” Steve responds this time, gentle. “We won’t be your parents. More like caregivers or just someone who makes sure you go to school and eats your vegetables and stuff.”

“I don’t like onions,” Peter says instantly like that was a deal-breaker. Steve just grins, a chuckle escaping.

“Noted, no onions.”


	4. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, family drama whoops :D

Peter’s eyes flitted over his new home, taking in the vast clean white space and felt himself curl in on himself whilst is hand tightened over his IV pole (He was allowed to visit the penthouse suite but after an hour he was supposed to be back in bed on the medical ward so he could be taken care of while he recovered).

“So, what do you think?” Tony asked, grinning, “A step up from the air vents?”

“It’s big,” Peter stated, voice croaky, throat tight.

He wasn’t quite sure why the open vastness was making him nervous, he’d been through worse, but not being able to stretch out and touch one of the walls made his skin crawl and he wasn’t sure why. It was a little different when he was in the ward, he was confined to a bed, but even that had been a little unsettling.

“It’ll be a little odd at first,” Steve said gently. “It took me a while to get used to it too.”

Peter nodded, trying not to make it too jerky, and shifted on each foot as he took in the room fully.

The entirety of the living room, kitchen, and dining room were open plan, the kitchen raised on a platform that you could get to by a small set of stairs all around the platform. The kitchen was mostly pristine marble and fancy equipment that Peter was too nervous too even look at, and he then moved his eyes over to the living room.

It wasn’t what he imagined Tony Stark’s living room to look like. There were plush grey couches that could easily fit eight or so people as well as multiple armchairs, most of which probably cost more than he was worth. But there were hand-knitted blankets in various colours strewn about and scatter cushions that were pressed into the couch cushions from use.

Also, there were multiple sketch books and magazines piled up on the coffee tables next to some coasters which had some coffee rings on them, and a MIT jumper folded up next to everything.

It was homely.

“Sorry about the mess.” Steve huffed, eyes sloping over to Tony. “I’ve tried to make everything as neat as possible but Tony manages to get his stuff everywhere no matter what I do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the worst.” Tony grinned, waving his hand about casually before turning to Peter.

“Do you want a drink before we go to see your room?”

Peter shook his head softly, and then added: “Thank you though.”

Tony almost beamed and then gently led him through a hallway by the kitchen which had four doors in it.

“One is mine and Stevie’s room. One is the main bathroom. One is Steve’s art studio and this one here is your room.”

Tony pushed open a sleek white door and let Peter to go in first.

The room was spacious, but not so big it made him uncomfortable, and he could feel some tension slipping from his shoulders just from that. There was a large double bed in the middle of one wall adorned with a thick duvet and four huge pillows all dressed in the same grey and navy chequered bedding.

On the end of the bed perched a cream throw and resting on top of that was a dark blue fluffy dressing gown and a pair of slippers in the same colour. On either side of the bed sat two bedside tables, each with a lampshade on it and above his bed was a shelf which had a few books along it. On the other side of the room was a small dressing table with a mirror perched on the top of it and a row of draws on the left-hand side, but that was empty (presumably for any hygiene products he may use). Parallel to his bed was a tv, and Peter didn’t even want to think about how much that cost.

On top of the plush cream carpet sat a grey fluffy rug that moved nicely under his feet and made the room feel smaller, which he appreciated. And then on either side of the tv were two doors, and his eyes scanned them in thought.

“The duvet is brushed cotton because it’s fucking cold this time of the year.” Tony stated, and Steve glared at him in scrutiny, but to Tony’s credit he just carried on. “And the books up there are just some books I thought you might like to read.”

“We’ll go shopping for more things for your room and some clothes when you get off the ward.” Steve said, smiling.

“Don’t worry about that. This is great, thank you.”

“Well, we’ll take you shopping anyway, just in case.”

Peter didn’t respond, shuffling on his feet yet again before turning to face the two doors opposite his bed.

“One is your closet the other is a bathroom.” Steve explained, sensing Peter’s confusion. “Believe me, you don’t want to share a bathroom with Tony.” He laughed, making Tony huff and pout dramatically.

Peter raised a small, hesitant smile before cracking the bones in his knuckles in nervousness because he had nothing to do with his hands.

“God, you’re shivering. Let’s get you back downstairs and into bed.” Steve fussed, opening the door open again so Peter could walk out first.

Was he shivering? He wasn’t cold, rarely was anymore, and the tower was usually a pretty nice temperature. He hadn’t been cold for the past few months, he’d had to learn to not be, and he tried to keep himself wrapped up in whatever he had to stop him from getting pneumonia.

But he didn’t say anything and let himself be simply led back to the elevator and down to the med bay whilst Steve and Tony discussed in murmurs what they wanted for dinner.

“I vote that Italian place down the street.”

“You always want to go to that Italian place for date night.” Steve complained. “Let’s go somewhere else?”

“Fine, Mexican?”

“There’s barely any good Mexican places.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from blurting out a response.

“There’s a really good Mexican place on 75th.” Both Steve and Tony turned to look at him and Peter felt his face flush red and he looked away from their eye contact.

“I-I mean that if you do want Mexican food, there’s a really nice restaurant on 75th.” He murmured, then added: “My uncle and aunt took me there for my tenth birthday.”

Peter wasn’t looking at the two men, but if he had he would’ve seen two looks of complete care, sympathy and admiration on both of their face’s, so he didn’t look and simply stared at the doors of the elevator he was riding in.

“Okay, that’s where we’ll go. Sound good Steve?”

“Perfect.”

-

When back in his room, Steve and Tony bid him farewell and a goodnight before leaving his room and Peter was left alone in his cot bed with nothing to do.

Staring up at the ceiling, he tried shutting his eyes and going to sleep, but he was anxious and he could hear the sales meetings going on a few floors above which was making his skin crawl. So he sat up, looking around the pristine white room for something to do.

“Uh, Jarvis?” He tried; voice quiet.

_“Yes, master Parker?”_

“Is there anything for me to do in here?” He asked, clutching his hands around the scratchy hospital blankets. “You know, for fun?”

_“There is a television in the cupboard facing your bed. The remote is located in your bedside drawer.” Jarvis perfectly rattled off, “You can ask me to play anything and I can provide you with that.”_

“Uh, thanks.”

He reached into the drawer from the metal end table next to his bed and with pinched eyebrows pressed the power button experimentally.

A sudden whirring noise made him jump, and he followed the noise to be the cupboard doors opening and a flat screen folding out already on and ready to go. He clutched the remote with sweaty hands, and hastily set it to the side before gently speaking again:

“Jarvis? Can you play Finding Nemo?” Without replying, the film began playing, the Disney logo appearing on the screen.

Settling down into the two cushions behind him, Peter watches the first half of the film with soft eyes and barely breathes too loudly so he doesn’t spoil the atmosphere he’s created for himself.

Around half way through, at around ten, there’s a quick knock on the door and Peter barely has time to pause the film before Stephen Strange is walking in with Steve and Tony in tow.

“I see you finally found the tv, about time kid.” Tony jokes and Peter raises a small smile, before turning to Dr. Strange who is beginning to put on rubber gloves.

“Just here to check your vitals for the day.” He murmurs, flitting through the notes the previous nurses had made over each of his appointments.

“And we came in to say goodnight.” Steve adds, smiling.

“And also, to say that Mexican place was amazing.” Tony adds again, grinning. “I’m favourable to the tacos.”

Peter just smiles at them again, and lets Stephen put the thermometer in his ear to check his temperature before murmuring a small: “Glad you liked it.”

“I think you should be ready to get out of the med bay tomorrow.” Stephen smiles at him. “Provided you eat your daily number of calories and you don’t do any heavy exercise for the next week.”

Peter wants to be glad, wants to shout ‘thank fuck for that’ and get to sleep without a nurse prodding him awake every two hours to hear his breathing. But he just raises a forced smile and settles down under his blanket heap again.

“Okay, well we’ll talk tomorrow morning anyway. Goodnight, Peter.” Stephen smiles at him quickly before turning to the door and heading out, lab coat breezing behind him.

Peter raises his eyes to look at Steve and Tony, who are both smiling gently.

“See you tomorrow, kid.” Tony says softly, at the same time Steve says ‘night’ and then they both turn towards the door hand in hand.

“Goodnight.” Peter murmurs softly just as they open the door and leave with yet more smiles.

He wanted to be excited about tomorrow, but something was holding him back. He was scared, scared of getting attached, scared of hurting them and especially scared of them leaving him.

And as Peter watches Marlin and Nemo reunite, Peter thinks back on the time when his Uncle Ben and Aunt May had promised him that if he was ever lost, that they would find him and make sure he knew he was loved.

And as the credits rolled, he wondered who would find him now.


	5. On the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling good about life :)  
I hope everything is good for you guys!

-

“So, I hear you’ve not eaten much of your lunch?” Stephen says immediately upon coming into his room on the med bay. He raises his eyes from his chart to look at Peter.

The look makes the boy squirm, face flushing red and he picks at his sleeves with eyes cast down. He should be more fucking hungry, and he had food, right here in front of him; yet he couldn’t eat more than a few bites.

“It’s a lot of food.” He murmurs quietly, and he watches Steve’s face in the corner of the room flash with sympathy.

“Well, that’s okay,” Stephen notes, nodding. “Just try and eat regularly and have small portions. Food high in calories.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, just looks over to the other side of the room where his bed is now made primly and he tugs his ankle a little to make sure that his foot is still wrapped around his ratty backpack.

He vaguely hears Stephen ask about if he was feeling out of breath or nauseous or still in pain from his jaw, and he just shakes his head without looking at him, trying not to meet eyes with either of his new foster parents because he had a feeling of tightness in his chest.

“Okay, then you’re fit to go.” Stephen smiles, “Just make sure you take the pain relievers and antibiotics every morning.”

“We’ll make sure he gets everything he needs.” Tony nodded; his hand linked tightly with Steve’s. Peter watched as Steve squeezed his hand tightly and then sent Peter a warm smile.

“Ready to go, kid? We thought we could go out and get some stuff for your room or some more clothes if you want?” Steve asked, eyes shining and warm.

Clutching his backpack straps tight, he stood and almost imperceptibly nodded, trying to take some deep breaths through his nose to calm the anxiety in his chest.

“I’m also requesting we get something to eat. I’m starved.” Tony groaned, opening the door for Steve and Peter to walk out into the hallway.

Peter felt something deep flash in his gut, anger. He thinks: _You aren’t starving._ He wants to snap at Tony, shout the words he’s thinking right in his face. But he holds back because these are the people that could dump him back to the social services at any moment, which would be living hell.

Tony and Steve chatted about nothing as they walked down the hallway to the elevator, the ride down to the garage and all the way through the garage until they got to a sleek grey Mercedes. Peter tried not to look at it as Tony went around to the driver’s side and opened the door because it was obvious the car was worth a lot of money and he was wearing jeans he hadn’t washed in at least a week.

“Get in kid, it won’t bite.” Shooting Tony a scowl, Peter opened the door to the backseat and sat down, trying to not let his muddy shoes touch the floor or expensive leather seats either.

“Where do you wanna go?” Steve asked with a smile, looking at him through the rear-view mirror and Peter just shrugged and looked out of the window at all of the other cars lined there.

He could hear someone sigh and his shoulders tensed as he waited for the shout or slap or insult, but instead, the car just began reversing and Tony and Steve started talking about going to some homeware store for things for his room.

The drive was mostly silence on his part, Tony and Steve doing most of the talking in a quiet voice as they moved through midday traffic.

“What’s your favourite colour, Pete?” Tony asked, still looking at the road in front of him.

“What is this: twenty questions?” He responded; eyebrows raised. Then he added: “Blue.”

Tony just grinned at him and then nodded before talking to Steve again in a soft tone, only looking sideways every once in a while.

It was Peter’s stomach that broke the quiet atmosphere, creating a loud rumble in demand for food.

He felt his face flush bright red and he watched as both Steve and Tony grinned at him.

“We’ll get food as soon as we get to the mall, don’t worry kiddo.”

-

“Won’t people recognise you? Y’know, being superheroes n’stuff.” Both Steve and Tony turned to look at him as they walked into the mall, frowns on their faces.

“We have a disguise.”

“What? Hats and sunglasses? I’m sorry gentlemen I appear to have lost my guardians.”

Tony snorted, then stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, grinning at Peter before mumbling about it being a fair point.

Steve navigated them through the small crowd of people doing some Christmas shopping, up to the food court before turning to them.

“What are you up for?”

Peter gazed around all of the different options, feeling the tight feeling come back in his chest just from all the options and the prices that came next to it.

“Burger for me please, sweetums.” Tony batted his eyelashes at Steve who rolled his eyes and turned to Peter.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m fine with anything.” He muttered, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket and trying not to look at either of the men.

“Yeah but we’re asking what you would like to eat, not what you’re fine with.” Steve gently probed, and Peter turned to look at him then sighed.

“I don’t know? A pretzel?” He tried not to roll his eyes when Steve grinned and nodded before telling them he’d go and grab the food, and letting Tony guide him to the table.

He sat down in the booth seat opposite Tony, keeping his backpack on his lap as he gazed around the people enjoying their early lunches.

“So, Peter, I’ve noticed that your school has reported you absent for the last two months,” Tony stated, looking at him dead in the eye. “You went to Midtown High, right? That’s a tough school to get into.”

Peter squirmed and refused to meet the man’s eye.

“Yeah, it’s hard.” And when Tony didn’t say anything else, added: “When social services started going to the school trying to find me, couldn’t go anymore.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Well, we thought we’d let you settle for two or three weeks and then go and speak to your headmaster to see about enrolling you again. Sound good?”

Peter tried not to let too much excitement show on his face at the idea of being at school again, with Ned and MJ. So, he just smiled a little and nodded.

That was the point where Steve came over with a tray that held two burgers and a pretzel covered in cheese. Taking the cardboard container from the man with a small smile, he slowly ate the food, trying not to appear too eager or hungry for real warm food.

“Stevie! You forgot to ask for my burger without pickles.” Tony whined, pouting at the two pickle slices resting on top of his lettuce.

“Quit whining. Here.” Steve peeled them off and threw them onto his own burger before looking at Tony with a face that read ‘happy now?’.

“Wow what a guy. Pays for my dinner, looks like Hercules _and_ eats my pickles?” Tony sighed dreamily, biting into his food before looking at Steve with a loving expression.

Peter watched as Steve rolled his eyes again, picking up one of the napkins he brought to wipe mayonnaise off Tony’s chin.

“Is he like this all the time?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s very rude Steven.”

-

“Hey, Pete?” Peter hummed in Steve’s general direction. “Which of these sheets do you like? We need to get you more than just the set in your room right now.”

Peter looked up where Steve was gazing over some sets of sheets all ranging in colours and patterns. He raised his eyebrows, feeling his chest become tight once more.

“I’m fine with the set I have, I can wash them in a day.”

Steve looked up at him from where he was looking at some blue and black sheets and smiled softly, before setting the package back on the shelf.

“It will feel a little strange at first, having money, being able to get things that you not only need but _want_. It’s okay. You can choose whatever you’d like.” He spoke gently, eyes warm.

Peter didn’t say anything, eyeing the blond man very carefully for a few seconds before speaking in a slow voice.

“And what would you know?”

“Grew up in the depression, son.”

Peter flushed red and immediately broke eye contact, staring down at his feet with his hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets.

God, how much of a dick was he? Of course, other people had gone through what he has, he wasn’t the only person out there struggling with money. And worse, he had presumed that Steve was pretending to know what was going on because he was living a life of luxury now.

It must have been difficult for him to wake up in a whole different century and also have a bunch of money that he didn’t know what to do with.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, still looking down at his feet.

“Don’t sweat it, kid.” Steve smiled again. “Just help me pick out some sheets, yeah?”

After twenty anxiety-ridden minutes of trying to pick out two sets of sheets whilst Steve kept telling him to ‘not worry about the price’, he had managed to vaguely gesture to a set of black star-wars sheets and some white and light blue sheets.

Steve grinned, then dumped them into the shopping cart, turning to the other side of the aisle at the throws.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Hmm? Oh, he’s looking at tech.” Steve gently began feeling some of the blankets for texture. “He likes looking at the competition. He’ll probably be back around-“

“Miss me, beautiful?” Tony grinned as he popped his head around the corner, then walked up to the cart, assessing the contents.

“Star-wars?” Tony asked him, “You like Star-wars?”

“Don’t mock.” Steve scolded, eyebrows furrowing. “Anyway, you like Star Trek, from what I’ve heard: that’s worse.”

Peter snorted, smirking at Tony who glared at Steve with bright red cheeks and a pout on his face.

“Which of these do you like Pete? Blue or Black?”

“I don’t know.” He muttered, but when no one said anything, squirmed and added: “Black.”

He was traipsed around the store and required to pick out things he liked. Including but not limited to: Lampshades, books, pillows, picture frames, mirrors, and curtains.

“How about you go with Tony whilst I pay for this stuff? You can go and think about what clothes shops you might want to go to.” Steve smiled kindly, and Peter just nodded, chest too tight to speak, and headed for the door of the shop.

He couldn’t even begin to think about how much they were spending on him, all the money that could’ve gone to people like him.

“Good competition?” Peter manages to ask Tony when the older man joins him on the bench outside the shop.

“Nothing to write home about, SI is better.” Tony bragged, smirking.

“You’d do better if you could make advanced phones that are affordable to the younger generation,” Peter muttered, picking at his sleeves, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

But to his surprise, Tony just laughed.

“I’m sorry?”

Peter squirmed, blushing all the way down his neck.

“It’s just-” He squeaked, mortified. “-Teenagers and young adults will be your biggest sales group because they are the most tech-savvy. But your phones and tablets are too expensive for students and younger adults with starter jobs. Plus, parents are reluctant to buy their kid's such expensive phones because, well, they're just kids.”

Tony looked away in thought, hummed and then looked back at him with a smile.

“You might be onto something there, kid, I’ll look into it.”

Peter just blushed again and looked away from Tony to gaze around the mall until Steve came out looking annoyed.

“Some people just whisked off with our bags, to take them to the car.”

“Come on Steve, there was like eight bags!”

“I’m a super soldier!” Steve growled, glaring at Tony playfully. “I could’ve easily carried those bags.”

“Okay macho man. Let’s go get some clothes.”

-

“Successful shopping trip?” Bruce asked cheerfully when they bumped into one another down the hallway.

“Uh, yes, it was good.” Tony smiled, and Peter didn’t say anything, too interested in the artwork on the walls.

In truth, the shopping trip was mostly going good until Peter had to try on some clothes for sizing and fit into age 14 clothing. He had sat down in the changing room cubicle and silently heaved through a panic attack with hands clamped over his mouth until Tony asked if he was okay and come in when there was no response.

After coaching some breathing and offering him some water, peter had been left drained and just complied with picking out clothing after that.

Sure, he’d felt guilty after every time he chose a shirt or a pair of jeans and they were added to the pile, but mostly he just shut his eyes and thanked every god he could think of.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Bruce said slowly. “See you guys at dinner.”

Both Steve and Tony bid him farewell before stepping into the elevator behind Peter who was leaning against the back of it with tired eyes.

“Hey kid, you feeling okay?” Tony asked, sending him a smile.

“Mhm.” He responded, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Just tired.”

No one said anything after that as the doors opened and they all walked to Peter’s room to drop off bags, setting them down in various parts of the room.

“Do you need any help unpacking everything?” Steve asked, rummaging through one of the bags from the homeware store to get out the sets of sheets to wash before putting them away.

“No, I’m good thanks.”

They both nodded and smiled and turned towards the door.

“T-thank you.” He blurted, face red as they turned to look at him. “F-for today. And the stuff.”

They both smiled again, warm and bright and full of adoration.

“Of course, kiddo.”


	6. Whoops, they did it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so late and short  
But at least I did it 
> 
> im so tired
> 
> Be nice to someone <3

-  
Peter didn’t quite know how he got to the point where he was eating breakfast with the entirety of the avenger’s team on a random Thursday in November; yet here he was, staring at the mountains of scrambled eggs, platters of crispy bacon and stacks of fluffy pancakes that Steve had made that morning and the earth’s mightiest heroes delve into it like they hadn’t eaten in months. 

  
“Eat up quick,” Sam muttered from next to him. “These guys eat like savages.” 

  
Peter couldn’t help but snort as he eyed Clint whose face was covered in syrup whilst he shoveled eggs into his mouth before tentatively grabbing himself two pancakes and a couple of pieces of bacon and beginning to eat, slowly taking in everyone else. 

  
“So, Peter, Tony tells me you go to Midtown High?” Bruce asked from next to him, pushing his glasses up his face. “That’s a difficult school.”   
“Uh, yes, it is,” Peter mumbled, face burning red: he was never very good at taking compliments. 

  
“What courses do you like the most?” Bruce asked again, seemingly genuinely interested. 

  
“Mostly bio-chem courses. I like maths too.” He paused and then added. “Though I highly doubt I’ll need trigonometry in my daily life.”   
Bruce chuckled, “Save it for architecture.” 

  
Peter smiled shyly, taking a few more bites when it was Clint who spoke up next. 

  
“Isn’t Midtown High a private school?”

  
“Clint!” Wanda hissed, cheeks matching her flaming red hair. 

  
Peter squirmed, cheeks also flushing red but answered quickly: “It’s okay. I- uh- got a full paid scholarship.” 

  
Sam whistled before taking a sip out of a glass of orange juice, “Damn kid, you gotta be smart. My nephew tried to get a scholarship for Midtown – didn’t get it.”  
Peter felt his face flame again and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. 

  
“I’m okay-“

  
“Bullshit,” Tony cut in. “The kid has a 4.0 GPA and straight a’s.” 

  
God, if there was an avengers-level threat right now that would be really helpful.

  
All eyes were on him now, and he sunk slightly lower in his seat, toying with his food with his fork. 

  
“I really like studying.” Was his weak excuse. 

  
“I think you’re the only sixteen-year-old who does.” Clint snorted, and Peter blushed again, shoving a piece of pancake in his mouth. Thankfully, the subject moved onto the new training schemes Tony had set up and were available for test runs, and Peter listened carefully, still eating. 

“If you want, Pete, we could start testing your limits?” Tony asked, pouring himself another mug of coffee. 

  
“After a week of rest.” Steve cut in, glaring at Tony pointedly, who just rolled his eyes and looked over at Peter for his answers. 

  
“Sure.” He replied quietly, pushing his plate away, suddenly feeling sick. “That sounds fine.”   
-  
“Hey kid, I have to get to a meeting and Steve needs to go and help out with some new recruitments because he’s a nerd, you can stay here or go down to the common floor and watch a movie with Clint.” Tony popped his head around his door, clad in a suit and freshly washed and shaved. 

  
Peter set down his book that he had been reading and pushed the blanket he was using to the side, standing up slowly. 

  
“Can I go down and sit with Clint?” He mumbled, shy. “This space is still a bit big when I’m alone.” 

  
Tony grinned and nodded. “Sure, we’ll be back at six.” 

  
Peter followed Tony out, shutting his bedroom door behind him and stopping in the living room where Steve was eating a protein bar and reading something on his phone. 

  
“Pete’s gonna go down and watch a film with Clint, god save him.” He picked up a flask of coffee and took a sip. “Ready to go, captain?” 

  
Steve slid his phone into his back pocket and smiled at Peter before walking around the kitchen island so he could slide on his coat that was resting on the arm on one of the many couches. 

  
“If you get hungry or want something to eat, there will be stuff in the kitchen in the common room for you to eat. But don’t ask Clint for anything, he’s banned from kitchen duty for a week.” 

  
Peter frowned as he followed them into the elevator, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why?” 

  
“He tried to burn down the fucking kitchen making toast,” Tony muttered, pursing his lips before taking another sip of his drink. 

  
“Watch your language, Tony,” Steve reprimanded, frowning. “But, uh, yes. Clint had an incident with the toaster.”

  
“No toaster needs eleven settings; we’ve been over this.” Clint defended himself as the door opened seconds later, and Peter snickered, following the two men out of the elevator. 

  
Promptly ignoring the blonde, Tony turned to Peter and told him they’d be back at around six and if he needed anything, he could ask Jarvis to call them but the others would be more than happy to help with anything he needed. 

  
Then they were gone, walking back into the elevator discussing new training regimes and whatnot and it was just him and Clint. 

  
“What are we watching?” Peter asked, walking over to the sofa and slumping down into it, right after Clint. 

  
“The amazing, the fabulous, my most favourite ever movie. It’s Tangled.” He made jazz hands, eyes lighting up. 

  
Peter let an amused smile reach his face, and chuckled. “I love that movie.” 

  
“And you fucking should.” Clint nodded. “Popcorn?” He plopped a huge bowl of popcorn in between their bodies and then threw a large blue fluffy blanket across their knees.

  
“Salted or sweet?”

  
“Salted, obviously, I’m not a heathen.” 

  
Peter found himself relaxing as he watched the movie and shoveled salty popcorn into his mouth, laughing along with Clint and snuggling into the warmth of the blanket. It was halfway through the movie when the popcorn was finished and Clint asked him if he’d like anything else to eat.   
Seemingly satisfied with his answer of no, Clint turned back to the movie, but only twenty minutes later did he ask if he wanted something else to eat.   
“No, I’m good thanks, Clint.” Peter smiled a little, shifting slightly. Clint smiled back, but it seemed forced and his body tensed. 

  
He debated not mentioning it, leaving Clint be. But he didn’t like seeing the man uncomfortable, so he took a deep breath and turned towards him.   
“Clint?” He said slowly. “Are you okay?” 

  
Clint’s body relaxed slightly as if he hadn’t realised he was uncomfortable and gave Peter a gentle smile. 

  
“Yes, I’m fine.” And then when Peter gave an uneasy look, added: “I just don’t like it when people go hungry, so I wanna make sure you don’t want anything more.”   
Oh, that made sense. Peter thought about telling the man he wasn’t hungry and that he was fine, but he could always eat more and the man seemed tense and uncomfortable. 

  
“Do you have ice cream?” He asked instead, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Clint’s eyes lit up, and he jumped up, speed walking to the freezer before pulling out a tub of rocky road ice cream out and grabbing two spoons from the drawer. 

  
He handed the tub to Peter and sat again, gesturing for the boy to open the tub and then promptly shoving his spoon inside and grabbing a spoonful of chocolate ice cream and marshmallows. 

  
They watched the rest of tangled in relative contentment, the only noises coming from their spoons and their eating in comfortable silence. Just as the film was ending, he felt his eyes drooping low, relaxed and warm and full doing wonders for his sleep schedule, and he set the empty tub on the coffee table before burrowing under the blankets further, resting his head on the sofa cushions behind him. 

  
Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a minute, that would fend off the lingering fatigue. That was probably a bad idea, but he was used to them.   
-

  
Peter felt groggy when he woke up, but vaguely realised he was laying down, still in the common room, but laying down on the couch. He was about to sit up and look for Clint or someone else when he heard a voice. 

  
“So, how did it go with the psychologist?” He thinks that’s Sam. “Are they prepared to take on Peter?” 

  
He tensed, hands clenching around the blanket covering his body. 

  
“We think so, she specialises in child trauma and is free for two sessions a week, so she’s ideal,” Steve responds, clear as day, as though the person he is talking about isn’t about ten feet away. 

  
“Did you tell her about the foster homes, and about Garret?” That was Wanda this time, and Peter slowly felt the anger building up inside him. 

  
“And what about his parents, and his aunt and uncle?” Natasha asked. 

  
Just as Tony was about to answer, Peter couldn’t stop himself from jolting upright and startling the others as he spoke. 

  
“Or how about how I fell through your ceiling, or what I did today or the fucking meals I’ve had or the words I’ve spoken since I got here?” He asked, stepping off the couch. 

Both Steve and Tony seemed at a loss for words, but at least they had the decency to look sheepish. 

“We were just talking about-“

  
“About what?” Peter snapped, clenching his fists. “My trauma, my family history or about the therapist I’m apparently seeing now?” 

  
“Peter-“ Steve said softly, trying to placate the angry boy. 

  
“No, you fucking signed me up for therapy without asking me and then shared my trauma with your friends over coffee!”

  
“We all have to see therapists, the avengers, it’s mandatory-“ Tony cut in, cheeks red. 

  
“But I’m not a fucking avenger!” Peter snapped again, feeling his cheeks flame in anger. 

  
“Yes, we know that. But-“ 

  
“But what? What excuse could you possibly have for talking about my personal problems without my consent?”

  
When neither of them responded, embarrassed and quiet, Peter let out a puff of air. 

  
“Well next time, you decide to share my personal history, try and go to the next room.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I talk about the American schooling and grading systems in this book but I'm British so I know fuck all but what I know from glee pretty much. If there's anything wrong feel free to tell me :)


	7. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd have this up on the 11th but I'm the worst person ever and decided to completely ignore that and spend ages on rewriting it...  
but here it is
> 
> Be nice :)

-  
“Peter?” Steve called through his door, the next morning. 

  
Last night after Peter had stormed off, he’d immediately gone to his room and stayed there throughout the evening and dinner. He’d not responded to anything Steve or Tony had said to him, and he debated not responding now, but before he could even consider it Steve was speaking again. 

  
“There’s breakfast if you want some, I made waffles.” Peter would’ve felt bad at the man’s desperate voice if he didn’t remember that he had to go and see a therapist. “Look, Peter, you have every right to be mad but you need food and if you don’t come out, I’ll get Jarvis to unlock the door.” 

  
“Fine, I’ll be out in a minute.” He replied, waiting for Steve to walk off before he walked over to the door and opening it. 

  
Wordlessly, he sat down at the table, not looking either Tony or Steve in the eye as he put a waffle on his plate and drizzled maple syrup over it. They ate in uncomfortable silence, the only noise cutlery on plates as they ate.

  
Peter could feel their eyes on him but decided that he was going to be stubborn and not look back, eating quickly so he could retreat to his room quicker. Just as he was about to get up to take his plate to the dishwasher, thankful he managed to eat in record time, Tony spoke up. 

  
“We’re leaving at eleven to go and see Annie, your therapist.” Peter paused, debated turning around and shouting fuck off, but instead he didn’t respond and just walked over to the sink to rinse off his plate before setting it into the dishwasher and heading back to his room.   
And the only notice he gave them that he was angry, was that he slammed his bedroom door so forcefully the drawers in the chest of drawers rattled.

  
_Maybe if I just lock the door and refuse to go_, he thought idly, _are they strong enough to fight him?_

  
No, he couldn’t do that, that was petty and mean and not what they deserved (even if they had been total asshats by not asking him if he wanted therapy). He wasn’t even sure why he was so against going to therapy, he knew a lot of people would kill to be able to get the help they needed but not being able to afford it, so he was lucky really. 

  
Maybe he didn’t want to go because he didn’t want to admit that he was having trouble sleeping without seeing Aunt May, or maybe it was because he wanted to just think everything was normal for a few days. Either way, he didn’t want to go.

  
He spent the remaining hour before they had to leave reading ‘_the perks of being a wallflower_’ because MJ had been demanding that he read it for around his entire life up to date and he thought he’d humour her. Turns out, he actually does love the book. 

  
He was just about to start a new chapter when Tony calls through his door. 

  
“Time to go, kid.” 

  
When he walked into the living room wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans and his old sneakers, Steve looked genuinely surprised to see him there. He didn’t say anything to either of them as they got into the elevator, and the trip down was silent, save for Steve asking Tony what time Tony’s meeting was later and Tony’s response of ‘five’.

  
And if Peter thought the elevator ride was bad, that was nothing compared to the journey in the car. The atmosphere was tense, and Peter stayed silent throughout, body clenched as he observed Steve’s fidgeting and Tony’s hands gripped on the steering wheel.   
All in all, the car journey only lasted fifteen minutes, and when they pulled up outside the building with the gold plate stating the professionals that work there, he wished that the journey was longer. 

  
He followed the two men into the building, and whilst Steve went to check him in, he sat down with Tony in the waiting room. 

  
“We only want to help you, you know that, right?” Tony asked softly, and Peter looked straight ahead before responding.

  
“If you wanted to help me, you should’ve asked first.”   
-

  
“So, Peter, how are we doing today?” Annie asked with a pleasant smile when they both sat down opposite each other on plush grey couches. 

  
Thankfully, Steve and Tony weren’t in here with him and were waiting outside for him whilst he had his hour-long appointment.  
Annie was a slim woman, dark skin contrasting brilliantly against her yellow long-sleeved top and denim washed out dungarees. Her dark curly hair was braided back into two thick braids down the side of her hair and a few loose pieces fell against her forehead, framing her round face. Her eyes were kind and warm, dark hazel, they sort of reminded him of May’s. 

  
“I’m fine.” He responded, pulling his sleeves past his hands, and picking at the rips in his jeans. 

  
“How has your week been since living at the tower?” She asked then, smiling widely. 

  
Peter squinted his eyes a little, wearily. “Fine.” He repeated, leaning back so his back hit the cushions. 

  
“Yeah?” She questioned, “And how are you getting along with Steve and Tony?” 

  
“Again, everything is fine.” 

  
She smiled softly, then spoke again.

  
“Are you sure?” She asked, “Moving in with them, under those circumstances, must be a very trying experience, you can talk to me about anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

  
“Why are you so insistent?” Peter snapped before he could stop himself, suddenly clenching his fists in anger. 

  
“Because I’m supposed to be helping you,” Annie answered calmly, eyes soft. 

  
“But I don’t need any help!” Peter cried again, feeling very hot and angry and emotional all at once. 

  
“Even if you think that I’m still supposed to help you with whatever you need.” She said gently, not once getting mad or even indicating that she was angry.

  
“But I didn’t ask for help!” 

  
“But do you want it?” She asked. 

  
Peter stammered for a minute, flustered and emotional before looking her in the eye. 

  
“No.” He said quickly, eyes darting around the room as he rubbed his palms on his jeans nervously. 

  
She studied him for a second, just one, and that was all it took for Peter to start squirming in his seat as his face flushed red and his hands to bury deep in his pockets. 

  
“Are you sure?” She asked, once again calm. 

  
Peter faltered, then answered: “Yes.”

  
“You know, if you needed help, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.” 

  
Peter narrowed his eyes, face still flushing, and pursed his lips before looking away from her eyesight and shuffled his feet whilst answering shortly. 

  
“I know that.” He muttered. 

  
“So, do you want help from anyone? She asked again, making Peter’s head snap to her and grit out:

  
“I told you, I don’t need help.” 

  
She smiled, tapping her fingers against her knee. “Yes, but do you _want_ it?” 

  
Peter didn’t respond, looking away towards the table of activities that he presumed were for her younger patients, judging by the doll’s house and Lego across it.

  
Annie asked him a few more questions, mostly about his health or about how he was feeling about returning to school, and he gave one-or-two-word answers. Annoyingly, she never got angry or even hinted that she was annoyed, and he sort of wished she would.  
When the hour ended, Peter felt he had been there all day and was all too happy to swing his bag over his shoulder and follow Annie out the room to where Steve and Tony were waiting and talking quietly. They both stood up when he rounded the corner. 

  
Steve smiled at him warmly, and Peter didn’t even acknowledge them, looking to the other wall where there were posters about mental health posted up. 

  
“How did it go?” Tony asked, and before Peter could respond with something snarky, Annie responded. 

  
“I thought we made progress, which is really positive for our first meeting.” She smiled warmly. “What did you think, Peter?”

  
He was tempted to state that he was ‘all better now, let’s get the fuck out of here’, but Annie had been really nice to him and was now looking at him with kind eyes and a warm smile that reminded him too much of May for him to say anything other than: “It was okay.”

  
He stayed quiet through the entire process of making next week’s appointment, saying goodbye to Annie and the car journey back to the Tower. He could see Steve looking at him in the rear-view mirror, but didn’t look back. 

  
“How did you like Annie?” Tony asked him when they were in the elevator up to the common room, briefly glancing at him and then looking forward again. 

  
“She was okay,” Peter responded, still tense from his talk earlier, he couldn’t get Annie’s words out of his head. 

  
_‘Do you want help?’_

  
Tony went to say something else but was cut off by the elevator doors opening to reveal everyone else sat around the TV playing Mario kart. 

  
“Hey, guys – wanna play?” Clint asked, only briefly looking over his shoulder so he could keep his eyes on where his kart was going. 

  
“I’m good thanks, I’ll start on lunch,” Steve replied, stepping back away from the group to the kitchen. 

  
“Peter?” Sam asked when the game ended, waving the controller in what was supposed to be an enticing way. “You know you want to.” 

  
“Okay.” He agreed, sitting down and accepting the controller. “But just remember it’s going to be ten times more painful losing knowing that I haven’t played in a few months.”

  
Sam glared at him, but started the game anyway, only muttering a few unintelligible curse words under his breath. 

  
Peter beat him three twice, and to finish it off on the last game lapped him too. He smirked as Sam let out another squawk of surprise when Peter’s bike zipped past him on the screen. 

  
Then it all happened really quickly. 

  
The ‘finished’ sign came upon Sam’s screen to show that his car had lost, and he threw his hands up in rage. 

  
And on reflex, Peter flinched and shielded his face with his hands, letting out a cry of “I’m sorry!”


	8. Why, oh why, is it me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Major Panic attack, Peter needing to be restrained.  
Sorry this is late  
But it's my birthday on Saturday so have a present :)

-  
There was a moment of silence where no one said anything and all that was heard was the sizzling of the pan that was on the stove.

  
Slowly, Peter lowered his hands when he realised what had just come out of his mouth and blinked a few times before looking up slowly to see everyone’s face. Sam was completely still, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. 

  
He didn’t want to look over to Steve and Tony, but when his eyes flitted to them, he wished he hadn’t. They both had faces of complete pity and sadness which just wanted to make Peter crawl into a hole and die. 

  
“I, I-“ Peter stuttered, trying helplessly to explain what had just happened.

  
“Peter-“ Steve started but Peter jumped up from the couch, feeling hot and flushed.

  
“I’m going to bed.” He said quickly, darting towards the elevator which thankfully opened straight away, and he rapidly pressed the close button before anyone could get on. 

  
Once in the penthouse, he practically ran to his room, twisting the lock once he was inside and immediately crumpling to the floor in breathy sobs. He tugged on his hair fitfully, sobs of frustration and fear coming out; not being able to stop them. 

  
Eyes flitting around his room, he tried to come up with something to do or say when confronted because he probably only had limited time until someone came to get him, but his chest felt too tight and his breaths were coming short. 

  
“Peter?” It was from Tony. “Can we come in?” Peter panted, gripping his hair once more as he folded himself over and dug his forehead into the plush carpet. He tried to say no, or argue that it was locked but nothing was coming out except for wheezy breaths.

  
He distantly heard Steve say something but his hands were over his ears because everything was too loud; too bright; too much.  
And then someone was next too him, talking slowly. 

  
A hand pushed at the front of his chest, attempting to get him to sit up straight but it took a pair of hands at his shoulders tugging back for him to get upright. When he was upright, he was pinned to a chest, and that’s when he realised, he’d been thrashing against the two pairs of hands. 

  
“No.” He protested shakily, trying to grip at the arms he could only presume were Steve’s that were encasing him to his chest. 

  
“I’m sorry, Pete.” Steve murmured gently. “Tony grab the blanket, he’s freezing.” 

  
A blanket was laid across his body and he groaned, trying to push it off him because he was hot, did they not see that? 

  
After some time of both men speaking softly to him, pinned to Steve’s chest, he could feel his normal senses coming back to him and he stopped trying to get out of the grip holding him back, breathing hard and suddenly really cold. 

  
“Hey kiddo, you with us?” Tony asked softly, and Peter blinked a few times before nodding, not trusting his speech.   
Slowly, Steve released his grip and Peter sat forward, head spinning. 

  
“Take it easy.” Steve murmured, handing him a water bottle, but Peter’s hands were so shaky that he couldn’t grip it properly. Tony took it from him and held it to his lips, letting him drink as much as he needed before pulling it away. 

  
“I’m sorry.” Peter slurred slightly; voice hoarse. 

  
“Don’t apologise, we’ll talk in the morning okay?” Tony reassured, helping him stand. His legs felt weak, trembling underneath him and he practically fell into his bed; still shivering as Steve pulled his duvet and two thick blankets over him. 

  
“I’ll leave some water on your end table.” Tony murmured, and Peter nodded lazily with his eyes already shut. 

  
“And we’ll be in the living room if you need us, just shout or ask JARVIS to get us,” Steve told him, making Peter nod again. 

  
“Night, kid.”   
-

  
Peter woke with a jolt, blinking blearily as someone spoke softly.

  
“Careful, sit up slowly.” It was Steve, and Peter (still in a sluggish state) followed his order and sat up until he was resting against the headboard. 

  
“What time ‘issit?” He slurred, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he yawned.

  
“About eight in the morning, you’ve slept for about sixteen hours kiddo,” Tony answered him, setting down a tray of food on the bed next to him. 

  
He groaned softly, running a hand through his bed head. 

  
“You wanna talk about last night?” Steve asked gently, and Peter felt heat flush down his entire face and he looked away from both of them. 

  
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, it’s never, um, happened before.” He murmured and looked forward when Tony touched his leg gently. 

  
“Don’t apologise, you have nothing to apologise for.” He said softly. “We just want to help you.” 

  
Feeling too choked up to talk, he just nodded and slid further down into the covers, still not making eye contact with either of them.

  
“If you need anything, you can always talk to us, okay?”

  
Peter just nodded again, blinking back tears that were very close to falling. 

  
After last night, Peter had only just realised how much the two really care for him. That was dangerous, bad things always happened to the people that cared about him. It was almost like he was cursed, so he just stopped caring about anyone or letting anyone get too close. 

  
It wasn’t like himself and the two men across from him were like family, but they had some sort of dynamic where they cared for him and that made him antsy in the worst way possible.

  
It was, though, in some ways nice to relax from the walls he put around himself or worry about where he was going or who he was with or what he was going to eat the next day. Only in some ways though. 

  
“Eat the food and get some more rest.” Steve smiled. “We’ll wake you later.”  
-

  
They settled into somewhat of a routine over the next week where Steve and Tony would go and do their respective jobs and Peter would either stay at home and read some of his many books or hung out with one of the team that wasn’t working that day (luckily none of them brought up the incident that occurred on what Peter is calling ‘night from hell’). 

  
He was due to go and get checked later in the day for how his chest infection was getting better. He could feel his chest was better but every time he coughed and wheezed, he felt tired and worn out and Steve winced each time he did it. Still, he was dreading going back. 

  
They had also talked about school, and in a few days, they were going to go to his school and talk about getting him enrolled about two weeks before the Christmas break so he could get settled. He was actually excited about going back, so much so that he’d asked Jarvis to read him some chemistry textbooks before he goes to bed. 

  
Nothing was perfect, he still woke up some days where he couldn’t talk about anything much and he felt more closed off than usual. He had seen Annie once more but he had felt very anxious and jittery when he’d gone so they hadn’t talked about anything that was particularly stimulating or interesting. 

  
But currently, he was sat on the sofa in the penthouse, wrapped in two blankets and reading ‘when Hitler stole pink rabbit’ which he was around halfway through. He’d was comfortably warm and cosy so he knew when he had to get up later it would be a problem, especially when he knew it was for going to the medical ward. 

  
“What’re you reading, kiddo?” Tony asked, coming out from the elevator and wiping a rag across his hands to get oil off it. 

  
“When Hitler stole pink rabbit.” Peter supplied quietly, shuffling his feet slightly because he knew why Tony was here. 

  
“Well I hate to break you from your corner, but we need to go to your appointment.” He smiled but Peter didn’t smile back, folding the corner of the book down and standing up slowly as he set the book down. 

  
Tony didn’t say anything as he watched Peter put on his shoes but did smile again when the boy turned around before leading him into the elevator and pressing the button down to the medical wing. 

  
“What is actually going to happen?” Peter asked hesitantly, unsure that he wants to know the answer. 

  
“Just routine checks, he’ll need to check your chest again to see how the infection is.” Peter just nodded and they stayed in comfortable silence until the doors opened and they were met with Steve, smiling with hands buried in his pockets. 

  
They made they’re way over to the room where Doctor Strange was situated, and when they reached the room, they were greeted by the man in a lab coat with a small smile. 

  
“Good to see you again, Peter.” He shut the door when they were all in the room. “How are you feeling?”

  
“Um, alright.” Peter shuffled his feet, looking around at the walls. 

  
“How is your chest? Still coughing?”

  
“Yes. But it’s better.” He murmured, and sat down on the bed when Stephen gestured. 

  
The man took the stethoscope off his neck and placed the earpieces in his ears before gesturing to his top. 

  
Peter flushed red but unbuttoned the first few buttons of his flannel so Stephen could listen to his chest. He tried not to look at the two men in the corner but when Stephen pulled away and started speaking about how his chest sounded better but he needed to continue taking antibiotics, he caught the eyes of Steve who was looking down at his feet with his face grimaced. Peter looked away again. 

  
They sat through the appointment as Stephen carried it out in relative silence save for Peter answering Stephen’s questions and when it was finished just after his blood pressure was taken, he stood up from the bed and smiled tightly at Stephen when he handed over some more antibiotics and pain relief for his mostly healed jaw. 

  
“Are you stressed at all, Peter?” Stephen asked as he wrote some notes down in a file. “Or had any anxiety-like symptoms in the past few days?”

  
“Uh, yes.” He squeaked, red. “A few, why?” 

  
“I was going to recommend a therapist, once your mental health starts improving, your physical health will too.” 

  
“He has one.” Tony cuts in, then adds: “But thanks.” 

  
Stephen just smiles, bids them farewell and leaves them in the room quietly, off back to the Sanctorum for the rest of his day. 

  
“Peter, what happened last week-“ Steve starts, but Peter cuts him off.

  
“It’s fine. We spoke about it.” 

  
They both don’t say anything for a few seconds and then Tony speaks up. 

  
“Kid, whilst it may have never happened before, it could happen again.” He says gently, eyes soft. “We need to know you will let us help you if it does.” 

  
“I don’t need your help.” He mutters, looking away defiantly. 

  
“Peter, I never wanted to have to restrain you, but you were trying to hurt yourself and I don’t want you to that ever again.” Steve states and Peter blushes at the moment of vulnerability mentioned. “Promise us that you will let us help you?” 

  
“I-I can’t do that.” He murmurs quietly. “But I can try.” 

  
They both smile kindly, and Tony takes Steve’s hand. 

  
“That’s all we can ask of you kid.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a good day <3


	9. Good and Bad vs Good and Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!  
Merry Christmas :)

-  
“Jesus Christ, these kids are irritating,” Tony muttered irritably from where he was sat behind the wheel of the car, arms folded across his chest and head thrown back onto the headrest. 

  
“You’re only irritated because it’s before ten in the morning,” Steve replied, looking out of the window at the swarm of teenagers flittering around the school premises before they settled into their first lessons.

  
“Whatever,” Tony grumbled, turning around to face Peter who was in the backseat and also observing his school with curiosity.

  
Peter felt as though he should be more nervous than he was, but in reality, coming back to school was a nice break of familiarity between everything else in his life. He missed having something he could rely on that he enjoyed. 

  
“Are you sure you’re okay with starting next Monday?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “There’s no pressure to go back, you know.” 

  
“I know,” Peter said quietly, pulling his jumper sleeves past his hands. “I wanna go back.” 

  
They waited out the next twenty minutes in relatively comfortable silence, waiting for all the children to get inside their lessons before Tony and Steve pulled on caps and sunglasses (making Peter roll his eyes) and they stepped out of the car.

  
The school hadn’t changed one bit. 

  
The doors still creaked when they opened, there was still a crack in the cream coloured wall to the left of him where Tyson Murphy and Eddie Nixon had got into a fight and the third light on the left was still flickering. 

  
Although when they reached the administration’s office, a lady he didn’t recognise was sat behind the desk in a white blouse. She looked up when Tony opened the door and then smiled when she realised who it was. 

  
“Mr Stark. Captain Rogers. My names are Mrs. Lowitz.” She greeted, extending a hand for them to shake; which they did. “Lovely to be meeting with you.” She flattened the back of her skirt as she sat back down, crossing one leg over the other before gesturing for them to sit.

  
Peter chose to sit in the chair at the end, looking around the office and picking at the rips in his jeans. 

  
“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Steve said politely, choosing to let Tony sit in the middle seat.

  
“Well we were concerned when Peter did stop coming to school, you were the top of the class and doing brilliantly.” She looked at him, smiling softly. 

  
Peter blushed, “I took some time off for dealing with my recent family situation.” He mumbled, still red. 

  
She nodded, then tapped her pen on the desk. 

  
“Well, are you ready to be enrolled again?” Peter nodded, then Tony added on:

  
“This coming Monday if possible.” 

  
Today was currently a Monday, so that gave him a week to prepare himself for school and to tell Ned and MJ that he was coming back. 

  
“Okay well, that seems doable. We just need to check some basic things and fill out some forms and you should be all good to return next Monday.” She smiled, turned to her computer and clicked a few times before beginning her line of questions.

  
“Are you now the legal guardians of Peter?”

  
“Yes, both of us.” 

  
She typed both of their names in, then spoke again. 

  
“And do you have two other people to contact if either of you is not free?”

  
Peter looked over to them, but it seemed as though Tony didn’t even think about it before answering: the names already in his head. 

  
“Sam Wilson and Clint Barton.” 

  
She smiled softly to herself and noted them down.

  
“Residence?”

  
“Stark Tower.”

  
“Emergency contact numbers?”

  
“646-707-3261 and 971-726-5663.”

  
Whilst she typed in the numbers, her nails clicking on the keyboard was all that was heard save for the shuffling of Peter’s feet on the carpet floors.

  
They went through more routine questions, like Clint’s and Sam’s numbers and Peter’s doctor’s information before she saved it and turned to him. 

  
“Now you have taken ten weeks off school, so there is always a possibility that you could be held behind or you have to retake the year.” Peter felt his chest tighten, he couldn’t fathom Ned and MJ moving on to being Juniors without him. “But based on your grades and performance, maybe a little extra credit you can be back up and ahead in no time.” 

  
Peter felt his shoulders relax and he nodded, before adding:

  
“Will I have the same schedule as before or will I have a new one.” 

  
“There might be a few changes based on your private tutor time to catch up on your missing work, but not too many changes.” 

  
He nodded again and then sat back, letting Steve, Tony and Mrs. Lowitz talk about what else they could do to help out and details of the private tutor. 

  
When they left, Peter genuinely felt a lot better about himself and more positive. So much so that he told himself he was gonna get his suit out and swing over to Ned's house to tell him the news. 

  
Although he stayed comfortably silent throughout the journey back to the compound, he was practically vibrating with excitement and he didn’t even care when Steve started asking him incessant questions about what textbooks and school supplies he would need. The prospect of another shopping trip didn’t even phase him. 

  
When he was finally back in his room, he dug through his bottom drawer and pulled out his suit, grinning like a mad man as he shoved it into a backpack. Part of him was tempted to just swing out of his bedroom window but even he knew that he had to be discreet when leaving Stark Tower; it was always watched. 

  
So, he slipped on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before going out into the living room. 

  
“Uh, I’m just going to the common floor to show Clint my new book.” He didn’t think of himself that bad a liar, but people that knew him pretty well could always tell, so he tried to act as unsuspicious as possible. But there was no need:

  
“Okay kid, we’ll come and get you for dinner.” Steve smiled, and Peter only felt mildly guilty when he made his way to the elevator and pressed ground level instead of the common floor.

  
He felt pretty refreshed as he walked out the door and onto the sidewalk alone for the first time in a while; he even had a little spring in his step.   
Once he was far enough away from the tower he slipped into an unassuming alleyway and opened his backpack to bring out his suit. He quickly shucked off his sweats and hoodie and replaced it with the suit, shoving the clothes into the backpack and webbing it tightly to the side of a bin.

  
Swinging through the city brought a smile to his face that could only ever be achieved by doing this, he let out a hearty whoop as he flipped up and onto the roof of a nearby building, panting a little after his small twenty-minute workout. Usually, he wouldn’t be this out of breath, but he figured that he was still recovering from a chest infection so it wasn’t too bad. 

  
He took it easy going to Neds, swinging safely and slowly until he reached the apartment building Ned lived at. Crawling up easily to Ned's bedroom window, he grinned as he watched his best friend sat at his desk studying, knowing he would be back doing that soon. 

  
He knocked on the window gently, but the boy still jumped and turned sharply to where the noise came from, but relaxed and grinned when he saw the familiar face peeking behind the window. 

  
“Hey!” Ned greeted excitedly after he opened the window and Peter began lifting himself through. “I haven’t seen you in ages, dude. Where have you been?” 

  
Peter winced behind his mask, he hadn’t visited Ned since he stopped going to school because he started getting thinner and dirtier and Ned was actually quite perceptive if he wanted to be. 

  
“Yeah, uh sorry it’s been pretty crazy recently.” He pulled off his mask and smiled sheepishly, “I got a new foster family and I decided to take some time off school to deal with everything.” It wasn’t a total lie, he did get a new foster family, but that wasn’t the reason he didn’t go to school anymore. 

  
“It’s cool, I’m just glad to see you!” Ned threw his arms around him and Peter smiled softly, squeezing back before pulling away. 

  
“So, a new family again huh? These ones any good?” He smiled a little sadly but Peter just sat down on his bed and plopped Neds stuffed R2D2 on his lap. 

  
“They’re cool. Better than the last guy.” He shrugged. “Then again, anyone is.” 

  
Ned chuckled and sat next to him, leaning against his headboard instead of the wall. 

  
“I’m, uh, also coming back to school.” Peter smiled shyly at him, and then laughed softly when Ned's face lit up. 

  
“Oh, thank god I can’t take much more of MJ. I’m gonna kill her I swear.”

  
Peter laughed, feeling his shoulders relax now he knew that Ned was still as familiar to him as he always was. This was nice. 

  
-

  
Peter felt lighter upon walking back into Stark Tower, a smile etched onto his face and a spring in his step. He had almost forgotten that he had lied to get out he was that happy until the elevator doors opened and he stepped out into the common floor. 

  
“Oh my god! Peter!” Suddenly arms were thrown around him and he belatedly recognised it as Steve just as the man pulled away.

  
“Where the hell have you been?” He demanded, eyebrows creased and eyes worried. Peter raised his eyebrows, looking around the common floor to see Clint, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha all gathered in the kitchen, silent. 

  
“I went out,” Peter replied bluntly, putting his hands in his pockets with his eyebrows still raised. 

  
Steve’s mouth hung open, and just as he was about to reply, Tony rounded the corner. 

  
“I tried tracking his phone but- oh thank god, Peter,” Tony exclaimed, joining them in the group to also hug him quickly. 

  
Peter’s eyebrows rose even higher, face going slightly red. 

  
“Where were you?” Tony blurted, phone still in his hand as he ran his other through his hair. 

  
“Again, I was out.” 

  
Everyone blinked at him a bit. 

  
“Out?” Tony growled, face pinching in anger. “And you didn’t think to let any of us fucking know!?” 

  
Peter blinked and looked over to Steve who looked to be also expecting an answer. 

  
“Look, I don’t know what the big deal is. I just went to my friend’s house for a few hours. I’m back, aren’t I?”

  
“The big deal is you didn’t tell anyone! What if you got hurt? We didn’t know where you were!” Steve replied all in one, tone irritated. 

  
“But I’m back and I’m fine.” Peter squinted his eyes in irritation and moved past the two men. “Christ you guys are tetchy.” 

  
“Peter! You left, on your own, without telling anyone where you were going or how long you were going to be gone for, without a phone and you expect us not to be angry?” Tony asked, making Peter stop on his way to the stairs so he could go upstairs to his room. 

  
“I just don’t get the big deal!” He snapped. “I’m back in one piece!”

  
“The point is you might not have been!” 

  
“Fuck this, you guys are crazy. Am I not allowed out once in a while!”

  
“That is not the point and you know it,” Steve said firmly, making Peter roll his eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  
“Why? You’re not my fucking dad.” Peter said hotly, anger pooling deep in him. “What gives you guys the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?” 

  
“The law. So I’d shut it if I’d were you because the adults are talking.” Tony snapped from next to Steve. “Now you’re going to apologise to Sam, Clint, Wanda and Natasha because they wasted valuable time trying to look for you and then you’re gonna listen to us when we say that you’re grounded for the next two weeks,” Tony repeated, calmer. 

  
Peter scoffed, “Screw you.” He spat, then turned around and flew open the door to the stairs and slammed it shut behind him.

  
So much for feeling happier today, this was a regular Monday. 


	10. After the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's only a little after a week since last time, which I think is progress?  
Sorry this chapter is crap, hopefully more soon if my back to school week isn't bad :)

-

“We need to talk.” Peter paused from where he was pouring himself a glass of water at the sound of Steve’s voice and he turned around to face both males who were dressed and stood on the opposite side of the island.

Yesterday had been pretty bad. After the ambush from Steve and Tony, Peter had locked himself in his room and not even gone out for dinner, instead of bringing out a few crackers and a protein bar from his food stash in his sock drawer and staying slightly hungry.

On top of that, he had three nightmares and barely gotten any sleep, so instead spent the remaining hours of the night having Jarvis read him Chemistry textbooks and studies, even going as far as reading some famous papers on interesting subjects.

Subsequently, the next morning he slept for a few more hours but woke at around noon when his stomach simply wouldn’t let him get away with not eating anymore. Whilst there was food in his sock drawer, he was saving that for emergencies and refused to use any more of it when he could still go outside and get something to eat.

So, all in all, the past day or so hadn’t been brilliant, especially since he hadn’t given Steve or Tony a chance to talk to him; until now.

“Go on then,” Peter replied stiffly, looking down at his drink before taking a small sip.

“Could we sit down in the living room maybe? So everyone is comfortable?” Steve asked again, and Peter pursed his lips but nodded and followed the two men into the living room before squashing himself as far back into the sofa as humanly possible whilst Tony and Steve took to armchairs opposite him.

There was a beat of silence when no one said anything, and Peter simply stared down at his tap water whilst his leg bounced underneath him.

“Okay, first of all, I’d like to apologise for what happened on Monday.” Steve started, voice steady; Peter belatedly wondered if he was actually feeling calm and collected or he was just trying to appear so.

“Me too, I shouldn’t have shouted or got angry and I’m sorry,” Tony said after him, also calm and collected.

Peter stayed silent, still staring down at his water and began tapping his fingers against the glass.

“Now, although we are going to talk about the importance of why you need to tell us where you are going when you go somewhere and the necessity of having a phone, we wanted to ask you why you didn’t tell us where you were going?” Peter could see out of the corner of his eye Tony was trying to make eye contact but didn’t lift his head.

Instead, he shrugged slightly and then spoke:

“Dunno. Never needed to before.” He sighed tiredly. “Not used to it I guess.”

“Okay, well thank you for telling us that,” Steve said and then smiled lightly. “But to keep you safe, we need to know where you are at all times and how to reach you.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly.

“Which is why we’re gonna set a curfew, so everyone is clear about when you need to be home, no matter where you are, and if you miss that you understand that you have messed up.”

Peter just nodded again, not looking up.

“So, on school nights, your curfew is ten pm, and on weekends it is eleven. Okay?” Tony asked, and Peter glanced up.

“Okay.” He repeated.

“Also, we’re going to get you a phone so we can contact you and you can contact us if you need to.”

“Okay.” He said again.

There were a few more seconds of silence, and then Steve spoke again.

“Do you have any questions or anything you want to tell us?” He asked gently.

Maybe it was the fact he was sleep-deprived, maybe it was the fact he had some more nightmares last night or maybe it was because he was feeling brave: but he spoke firmly.

“I didn’t like it when you got angry at me.” He didn’t dare look up, but he knew the two men shared a look.

“We’re really sorry about that, we know you don’t like shouting, so we are sorry for getting angry and shouting,” Tony said softly, followed by Steve.

“And we promise to try our hardest to talk to you like this instead of getting angry in the future.”

Peter nodded once more, then added:

“Thank you.” He paused. “And- And I’m sorry too. For not telling you where I was going or when I’d be back. I’m just not used to someone caring that much.” He whispered the last part hoarsely, glancing up briefly to see Steve and Tony’s faces soften completely.

“Oh kiddo, it’s okay,” Tony spoke really gently, in a voice that kind of made Peter wanna cry.

“We know it’s hard for you, and we’ll try and make everything as easy as possible because we care, okay. So much.” Steve didn’t break eye contact the entire time and smiled softly when he finished. Peter blinked, rapidly fending off tears as he pulled his knees to his chest as he nodded.

“Okay.” He whispered.

-

_This is nice. _Peter thought quietly to himself as he sat curled up on the couch next to Steve and Tony as they watched ‘_The Incredibles’, _under heavy wool blankets with massive bowls of popcorn on their laps.

Tony’s head was resting on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve’s arm was thrown around Tony’s waist. It was especially nice because he could feel the atmosphere around him was warm and cosy, found in the way that Tony stole Steve’s popcorn even though he had his own bowl and in the way, Steve huffed as though he was annoyed and then kissed Tony’s forehead.

After their conversation, Steve had made a hearty breakfast of thick fluffy pancakes with crispy bacon and doused in maple syrup and they had eaten whilst Tony had walked him through his new phone (which Peter was horrified to learn was the newest StarkTech model, valued around two thousand dollars).

He tried protesting, even offering that he would prefer one of the older models but Tony had refused and Peter had been too emotionally drained to argue. So, he was sat with his phone that now contained Steve’s, Tony’s, Clint’s and Sam’s (for emergencies) and Ned’s numbers. He would’ve added MJ’s too if he had it.

Steve had offered for Peter to go out and meet up with his friends after they got out of school, but Peter was too tired, so he just asked if they could watch a movie and they had agreed.

Now they were sat warm and full and Peter could feel his eyes drooping, even if he loved the movie, because of his lack of sleep. He shifted slightly, so he was in a slightly more comfortable position and rested his head back against a thick cushion.

Maybe just a small sleep.

-

When he wakes, he’s vaguely aware of soft talking voices and a thick blanket covering.

He listens out to hear what the voices are saying and is pleased to see that it’s nothing about him.

“…conference on Tuesday…”

“…team meeting…”

“…Natasha’s mission…”

He stirs slowly, rubbing his eyes with a fist as he yawns, and moves his legs, only to find they are resting on something.

The voices stop, and he blinks around a little to find out that he’s lying horizontally and what his legs are laying on is Steve.

Peter jerks slightly when he’s fully aware of his surroundings, pulling his legs off Steve and sitting up straight.

“Hey kid, sleep well?” Tony asks with a small smile, still resting against Steve’s upper body.

“Uh, yeah.” He croaks, “What time ‘issit?”

“Uh, around three.” Steve checks his watch. “You were asleep for about an hour and half, maybe two? We’re watching some story about toys now.”

“’_ Toy Story’, _Steve.” Tony huffs irritably, rolling his eyes. “It’s like I’ve taught you nothing I swear.”

Peter chuckles lightly and snuggles back under the warmth of his blanket at the other end of the couch, knees bent to his chest.

“So, I was thinking you’d maybe like to go out for dinner?” Tony asks, “There’s a good Thai place not too far from here. We can take the secret exit from here in ‘disguises’ and walk?”

Peter nods slightly, feeling his body tense slightly.

“It’s not fancy, just good food.” Steve smiled. “But we don’t have to go if you’d rather stay here.”

“No, it’s uh, fine.” He looked away. “I’ll go and shower then I guess.”

The pair nodded and began a discussion on the new training schemes, so Peter felt okay to just slip away into his bedroom and shut the door on the noise.

Huffing a little to try and relieve the pressure sitting in his chest, he pushed himself off his door and headed into his bathroom, trying to comb out his mop of curls on the top of his head.

He didn’t take too long showering, having finally mastered the controls a few days ago, however, when he stepped out, he felt even worse about going out to eat. Shaking his head to relieve himself of the thoughts, he towel dries his hair and makes his way through to his closet.

Although Tony and Steve had brought him new clothes, Peter hadn’t been wearing a lot of them. Whilst on the streets, he’d kept his clothes in pretty good condition so his t-shirts were only faded with minimal holes, and his jeans were pretty badly faded and there was a rip in the knee of one pair that he passed as fashionable enough to still wear.

A few days ago, Tony had asked him why he wasn’t wearing his new clothes and Peter had begun flushing and stuttering and so Steve had jumped in with a _‘Wear what you like Pete, it’ll take a bit to be comfortable. There’s no rush.’_

So, he’d not been wearing a lot of his new clothes, save for a top every now and then. Taking a deep breath, he reached out for a pair of new jeans that were black and skinny, with rips in the knees (intentional). He also grabbed a red sweater that was slightly baggy and some underwear and socks.

After dressing, he slipped on some of the new trainers that he’d been provided with, and tried not to cringe at his reflection in the full-length mirror. It’s not that he didn’t like the new clothes, there was nothing more that he wanted to do than wear all of his new stuff every day and burn his old stuff, but he didn’t want Steve and Tony to think he was taking advantage of them.

But he simply just ran a comb through his drying curls and then slid his new phone into his back pocket.

“Ready?” Tony poked his head through the door, smiling. Peter just nodded, stepping out behind the other man.

“You’re looking good, son.” Steve smiled from behind the kitchen counter, clad in a dark blue t-shirt with a leather jacket. Tony was dressed similarly casual in just a blue Nike hoodie with some jeans and had their ‘disguises’ in his hands.

“Come on, let’s go,” Tony whined dramatically, tugging at Steve’s sleeve.

“Okay, okay,” Steve muttered, following Tony. “You’d think you were the one with the enhanced metabolism or something,”

“Sometimes it feels like it, I swear Stevie.” Peter snorted, digging his hands deep in his jean’s pockets.

“Your life is so hard,” Steve said dryly.

“Oh my god,” Tony sighed dramatically. “You guys actually have _no_ idea,”


	11. Rising Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I had a French Speaking exam so I have been preparing for that recently (fun note: I cried).  
I think this chapter is a bit shit so sorry about that too...
> 
> Hopefully more soon, enjoy :)

The restaurant they were at was nice. It reminded Peter of the Indian place he used to go to with May and that made him smile slightly as they were seated. It was homely and petite, lightbulbs hanging off ropes dangling over circular light wooden tables with mismatched chairs creating a pleasant atmosphere. 

  
They were handed menus and that’s when it dawned on Peter, he was going to have choose something that required money. He licked his dry lips and looked down at the menu along with Steve and Tony who were already mumbling about sides to share, trying not to show his inner turmoil. 

  
“God, I know I have it every time but I’m going to have to have the Pad Thai, it’s just too good.” Tony groaned, making Steve grin at him as he closed his menu and made his choice. 

  
“Well I’m having the Black Pepper Stir Fry, I promised myself I’d have it the next time I came here.” He threw an arm around the back of Tony’s chair and leant back, “Do you want to share the corn fritters to start?” Tony’s eyes lit up and he nodded, his stomach rumbling as to prove his point. 

  
“So, what’s it going to be, Pete?” Tony asked, making Steve look over. 

  
Peter swallowed dryly, looking back down at the prices before slowly closing the menu. 

  
“I’m not that hungry, thank you,” Peter muttered quietly, making the smiles on the two older men turn slowly into frowns and they sat forward in worry. 

  
“What’s wrong? Do you not like the food because we can go somewhere else-“ 

  
“It’s fine. I’m just not hungry.” Peter said sharply towards Tony who had been speaking, face flushing red as he avoided eye contact. 

  
“Peter,” Steve said softly. “You need to eat.”

  
“I know. I’ll have something back at the tower.” 

  
“Why can’t you have something now?” 

  
“Because it’s too much.” Peter hissed, face bright red and he then sighed and took a deep breath, tangling both hands behind his neck and dropping his head so he was staring at the table. 

  
“What’s too much?” Tony asked calmly after Peter had taken a few more breaths. 

  
“The food. I know it’s nothing to you. But-But I can’t choose and it’s a lot of money-“ Peter felt hot tears of frustration pooling behind his eyes. 

  
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Steve said gently when he saw that Peter was getting worked up, resting a hand on the boy’s arm and making him look up from the table. “Pick what you like. It’s no problem.” 

  
“I can’t,” Peter stressed, gripping the hair on the back of his head tightly. 

  
“How about I order for you?” Tony asked him. “Give me your menu so you can’t see the price of what I’m ordering, and I’ll choose. Okay?”

  
Peter nodded jerkily, letting Steve take the menu from between his arms, not trusting his voice. 

  
Tony and Steve both had the decency to leave Peter alone whilst they chose some food and let him gather himself, so when the waitress came over, they asked for all the food, choosing a few sides and starters as well as the three mains. They had decided that Peter would have Ramen Soup, which sounded pretty nice, and when the waitress left his shoulders sagged with relief. 

  
“Are you looking forward to starting school on Monday?” Tony asked, thankfully not mentioning the freakout. 

  
“Uh, yeah I am. I told Ned I was coming back, and he was pretty excited which was pretty nice.” Peter answered as he tapped his fingers against his glass, smiling to himself. 

  
“Do you know what classes you’ll be in yet?”

  
“Apparently I still qualify for the AP classes if I still go to tutoring after school on Wednesdays.” 

  
“Oh! that reminds me.” Steve exclaimed, making Peter look to him in confusion. “Do you mind Happy taking you to school on the days Tony and I can’t?” Peter frowned; he hadn’t been expecting anyone to take him to school.

  
“Can I not just get the subway?” Both Steve and Tony looked dubious, eyebrows knitting together in concern. 

  
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea-“ Steve started, but Peter cut him off quickly. 

  
“I’ll be careful, I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen, and it will be quicker instead of the early morning traffic.”

  
Both men shared another look, passing a whole conversation between the two before turning back to Peter. 

  
“Okay.” Tony agreed, and Peter felt a grin split his face apart. “But you have to message us when you’re on the way home and not stop anywhere that you’re not supposed to.” He said firmly, and Peter nodded. 

  
“Of course, whatever you want.” He smiled. “Thank you.” 

  
-  
“Steve I’m comatose, I’m dead, I’m on the brink of exploding.” 

  
“You’re full.” Steve pressed fondly, scratching his fingers through Tony’s hair as the latter leant against him in just his pyjama pants. 

  
When the trio had returned home after what was an amazing meal, they split up to head to respective beds. After Steve and Tony had watched the new episode of ‘the great British bake off’, they’d retired to turning off the main light and getting changed into pyjamas. 

  
“Don’t minimalize my pain, Steven.” Tony lectured irritably.

  
“My mistake.” Steve grinned down at his partner, leaning down to kiss him softly before smiling. 

  
“You were good with Peter today at dinner, I wouldn’t be able to think of a solution like that.” He watched as Tony blushed; the brunette never was good at receiving compliments (especially if they were related to his parenting skills) and then turned to hug his small body around Steve’s 

  
“It was nothing, just thought quick,” Tony muttered, shy. 

  
“Well, you were great anyway.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head, making the latter hum contentedly. 

  
“Is it really good idea to let him ride the subway to school, I mean what if-“ 

  
“Do you hear that?” Steve quickly cut off the smaller male, making him huff. But he just strained his ears to hear the same strangled noise he had a second ago. 

  
“No, Steve it’s probably just the wind.” 

  
“If I may, sir, Captain Rogers is hearing Peter Parker, who appears to be in distress,” JARVIS repeated monotonously, which made both men bolt upright in bed. 

  
“Why what’s happening?” Tony asked back, already shrugging on a t-shirt. 

  
“I believe it is a nightmare.” 

  
Steve and Tony hopped out of bed, the latter right behind the former as they sped walked down the hall and then into Peter’s room. 

  
The teen was spasming in his sheets, twisting and turning so they were trapping his legs and arms, small whimpers and sobs escaping his throat. 

  
“No, no, no, no. Please, no,” Peter cried out, head jerking again. 

  
“I’ll wake him up in case he tries to attack, okay?” Steve murmured and Tony just nodded. 

  
The blond began moving towards the bed but then faltered with the next words that came out of the boy’s mouth. 

  
“Ben, please, no, no, no.” His voice was slurred, still groggy from sleep, but still panicked and scared like a small child would have been. Steve gently hovered by the bed before calling out to him. 

  
“Hey, Peter, it’s me: Steve.” He spoke gently but clearly. “You’re having a nightmare bud.” 

  
Peter let out another cry, and Peter leant out a hand to gently shake the boy, which seemed to do more. 

  
Peter suddenly sat bolt upright, panting heavily with a thin sheen of sweat covering him and hands shaking in front of his torso. 

  
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, Pete. You’re alright.” Steve said quickly, and Peter looked over to him, before letting out a few shaky breaths and reaching up to wipe his forehead. 

  
Tony carefully sat next to the boy, a calm presence. 

  
“You okay?” Tony asked softly after a few minutes of silence where Peter regained his breath and became more familiar with his surroundings. 

  
“Uh, yeah.” He muttered; voice raspy. 

  
“I’ll go and get you some water.” Steve murmured quietly and left quickly to get the required refreshment, leaving the two brunettes in silence. Tony watched as Peter sniffed once and then twice, lying back down so he was flat with his hands covering his face. 

  
“I’m sorry.” Was what came out muffled a few moments later, the hands never moving. 

  
“There is nothing to be sorry for, kid,” Tony responded softly and laid down flat next to him, though he didn’t cover his face. 

  
Peter didn’t say anything for a bit, then sighed out crossly. 

  
“I hate them.” He muttered; voice thick like he was trying to fend off tears. “It’s bad enough going through the experience once without going through it every night.” 

  
“Every night?” Tony questioned, and Peter nodded, trying to discreetly wipe away a tear. 

  
“Not usually as bad as this.” Tony just nodded, and then that’s when Steve returned with a cup of ice water and a few squares of chocolate. Once Peter had consumed both, he laid back down and pulled his Star Wars bedding back over his body. 

  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

  
“No,” Peter said quietly, after a moment. “But thank you.” 

  
It was silent for another few minutes, each person processing. 

  
“Okay, well we’ll leave you to-“ 

  
“No!” Peter shot up as both older men stood, his eyes panicked and he reached out to grab Tony’s hand and looking between the two. “Please don’t go.” 

  
“Okay, kiddo,” Tony said immediately, sitting back down and getting under the covers next to the teen. “We’ll stay.”

  
Steve turned off the bedside lamp and then clambered in on the other side so they were either side of the distressed boy. 

  
“Thank you,” Peter muttered, shuffling down so only the top of his face was out of the bed. 

  
“Of course, kid,” Steve muttered. “Everything is gonna be okay now.”


End file.
